The Day We Say I Love You
by juumensou
Summary: "Infatuated with a woman; a woman who is older than me and even works with me." The diary of a lowly maid working in the Phantomhive manor as she deals with her desire for a certain red-haired maid. Mey-RinxOC, CielxOC
1. November 1st, 1889

**A/N: **Wow, haven't been here in a while. I'm always writing, but I get so afraid of posting anything. Well, here's a story, this time for _Black Butler_. Please review! Even if it's insulting my character's name, it makes me feel good to know someone is reading.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my OC, and any other OCs that might appear in the story.

**The Day We Say "I Love You"**

**November 1****st****, 1889**

She spills tea on my best formal dress, but I don't mind, even if it's one of the few outfits I own that aren't for work. Why don't I mind? I know it's one of the few times we'll be able to touch—to be close to each other—without having someone's watchful eyes on us. I don't even mind when she bumps in to me and brings me down on to the wet floor I just mopped. I will savor any time we spend together, because I know it will end quickly.

I sigh as I write this. I need to go shopping now, but that's okay… Maybe I can ask Miss Mey-Rin to come with me. She likes shopping…

My lips work their way into a tight frown, and I squeeze my muddy green eyes shut. I know it can never happen. Why do I feel this way? It's illegal for men, that I know, but no one ever says anything about women… "Buggery," or whatever those fools like to call it, is illegal, but… Oh, who am I kidding? It could never happen.

There is always the option of keeping it a secret, but I'm quite sure she wouldn't agree to it. Such a secret would be hard to keep, anyhow—though the thought of having to sneak around like naughty children makes me feel even more attracted to the lecherous idea. Someone would find out, though. Someone is bound to find out. I'm sure Mister Sebastian already has a clue. He's so… odd. I feel bad about writing such things, but I cannot lie to my own diary and self.

Mister Sebastian is an excellent butler, but… he's always… _there_. He's everywhere. He knows just about everything going on in the manor, and he's always by Master, like some sort of shadow. It's… strange. The master was kidnapped a year ago by a strange noble who was jealous of someone so young being decorated, and I swear I saw him return to the manor with _bullet holes_ under his uniform. The moment I glanced back, however, they were gone, so perhaps it was my imagination. I really need to stop being so suspicious of him, but I can't stand it when he pops up behind me and tells me what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong. And _those eyes_… Who has red eyes?

I can feel myself getting worked up over him and he's probably in his chamber, sleeping. Unless if he's running errands for the master. Once, during a restless night, I heard him going back and forth, back and forth… I'm sure he was doing something for the earl. I was too afraid to look outside, though, so for all I know, he was just as restless as I was.

Even so, he's rather observant. Mister Finnian is—unsurprisingly—oblivious, just as Mister Bard is. But whenever Miss Nina Hopkins visits to design Master clothes, she begins to grope at Miss Mey-Rin. As I feel my stomach twist and churn, Mister Sebastian will lean over and ask me to calm down. Though it may just be my red face giving it away. I do tend to turn the color of Miss Mey-Rin's hair when I get myself worked up.

I'm honestly surprised Mister Bard hasn't noticed. Mister Finnian is sweet, but he isn't the brightest boy I've ever met. He's too… naïve. I can't help but despise this quality in him, but, remembering my own naiveté, perhaps it's simply because I see too much of my younger self in him. So trusting and innocent. And foolish.

There's also the fact that we honestly aren't very close. Mey-Rin is very good friends with the other servants (aside from Mister Sebastian), but I can't seem to befriend them, and I came only a few weeks after all of them. I suppose my jealousy doesn't help. I will admit it; I'm jealous of them. All of the other servants are special and talented. They all have amazing stories. Mister Sebastian can handle anything, and he's mysterious and charming. Mister Finnian is an experiment and has unnatural strength. Mister Bard is from a war and is as tough as nails. Miss Mey-Rin was an assassin and is still a sharp shoot.

Me? I'm from a middle-class family that stems from Germany. My father left when I was young, but that's quite all right. He wasn't a nice man. It's a terrible thing to even think, but the point of this diary is to write the truth. I can't sugarcoat it. I'm nothing special. In fact, when I came here, I couldn't even read English; Master had Mister Sebastian teach me. He's so generous. He's rather cold and can be distant, despite only being thirteen, but I know that he can be kind if the need arises.

He even gave Miss Mey-Rin glasses. I feel myself smile; it's always so interesting when she takes off her glasses. She becomes demanding and cold, and easily shoots down anything and anyone in her way. It's amazing. But once her glasses are back on, she's back to the clumsy and ditzy maid that I work with. I don't mind it. In fact, I like it. Perhaps that's why I've grown to be so attached to Miss Mey-Rin. She may have a difficult past, but she can be just as plain as I am. She understands how I feel, especially since I tend to blush and stammer in the same way she does around Mister Sebastian…

I'm such a fool. Infatuated with a woman; a woman who is older than me and even works with me. I don't even have much to offer her. I am paid well, but I am not wealthy. I have no special talents, aside from cleaning and cooking, but I'm a maid. It's to be expected. I'm not even very beautiful. I do my best to seem attractive around her. I smother my heavy German accent to unconsciousness when I'm around her, though I know I can never kill it. I behave gently and kindly, even if I know that I'm rough and my hot temper is waiting to be freed again, like it was in the days of my childhood. Still, she doesn't notice.

Despite these obstacles, I can't help but blush and stutter around her, or smile when she brushes against me while walking to our chambers. I know that it can never happen, and never will happen, but I will continue to sit here in the Phantomhive manor, entertaining the fantasy of the day we say, "I love you."

_– Amalia Krause_


	2. November 8th, 1889

**A/N: **Hello there. I'm back. Again. In the same day. I need a life… but it's summer vacation, so who cares? Although seriously… I haven't actually left the house in a couple of weeks now… As usual. _Anyway_, on to the story.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my OCs!

**November 8****th****, 1889**

This week has been an interesting week, to say the least. Master was recently taken hostage and held for ransom… Thankfully, Mister Sebastian saved him, but it seems that the other servants were more concerned with the sweets the head butler left behind. I have to admit that my appetite got to me… If we hadn't been missing the silverware, I would have devoured it straight away.

The master is doing fine. In fact, he gave me some extra money this week when he heard about my dress being ruined. "Ruined" is exaggerating, I suppose; it's just a brown splotch over the right breast. Despite this, he allowed me to go shopping with Miss Mey-Rin. Mister Sebastian seemed less than pleased, and I can't help but wonder if that's one of the reasons Master was so generous…

That sounds rude, doesn't it? Suspicious and doubtful of my own master. He's been so kind to me, and here I am, writing about him behind his back. I wonder if the other servants keep track of what happens around here, though. Maybe Miss Mey-Rin also has a diary. I think I'm too nervous to ask; I'd probably just stammer and get scared off when Mister Sebastian passed by. I don't want him to think I'm just lazing around…

Speaking of lazing around, a new servant is coming to the manor. Thankfully, I know them; it's my little sister, after all. Master was kind enough to accept her application to be a maid. She's going to be working under me! I'm so glad. It's been a year since I've last heard from her and three since I last saw her in person.

Even as children, though, she was rather… well, guilty of sloth, perhaps? She slept for long hours, often 'till noon, due to her restless legs at night. She didn't like venturing outside; she preferred to keep to the house. I didn't understand why. Father was there. Always drinking and cursing and spitting. I was scared to go inside, she afraid to go outside. I suppose she's quite a bit younger than me, only Master's age. There are six years between us, so when she was little, she was quite easily manipulated into becoming Father's most trusted "companion." Sadly, this is not how she saw Father… She hated the outside, but her worst nightmare lurked around the house.

While we were both hurt by Father, I have always feared she was taken advantage of far more than me. I was hotheaded and had a quick tongue; he was more interested in simply silencing me and ridding himself of me rather than toying and torturing me. I sigh. I wonder what she's like now. She can work hard if she needs to, but Father rarely made her, and instead spoiled her because she obeyed him. Perhaps the torture was to keep her humble…

Either way, she's coming here to work, and I'm to keep watch over her. As her older sister, though, I can't help but wonder how much she's changed. We never really looked alike. We're different right down to the shapes of our noses. While I have long, curly blonde hair (I grew it out when Miss Mey-Rin commented on how pretty it would be) and eyes the shade of grass in rainy spring, when mud mixes with the flora, her hair is a straight dark brown, her eyes the same color as Father's; a cloudy blue. However, her eyes are different from his, too; they may be cloudy, but there's always some sort of sparkle in them. Even though I've pointed out the difference, though, she still keeps her bangs long and hanging in front of her eyes, even if she cut the rest of her hair short.

She also likes to tease me about our different body shapes. While she is curvier and heavier, I am thinner and lighter. I don't really mind. She may have wider hips and a wider bust, but at least I don't have to wear a corset to be this skinny. Besides, I'm taller than her, something she's always envious of.

I smile at the thought of her. I haven't seen her in so long. I'm nervous about her coming here, though; she tends to get nervous easily. When we were younger and left the house together, she would often begin to cry and panic if a man spoke to her. It quickly became so bad that she began to faint. Mother soon stopped making her leave the house, and Father was content with her locking herself in the house and helping Mother with chores.

She's so quiet and soft-spoken, which often leads her to getting frustrated. No one ever hears her because she can't speak up. We're complete opposites, her and I. I still have to hold myself back from screaming at Mister Bard when he burns me or at Miss Nina Hopkins when she flirts with Miss Mey-Rin.

Oh yes, I was recently wounded. My left palm has a small burn on it from Mister Bard's… _unconventional _ways of cooking. It's fine, though. Besides, I'm right-handed. I'm more concerned about Mister Sebastian having to cook just about every meal, despite Master hiring the cook. While I enjoy the others' company, sometimes I wonder why they're even here. Mister Finnian often destroys the garden (along with many other things and living creatures), Mister Bard can't cook without turning everything to charcoal, and Miss Mey-Rin… As much as I hate to say it, she is rather clumsy and often breaks things or ruins them.

I suppose I'm not perfect, either. I'm still wobbly in these shoes and more than once have I dropped an expensive piece of china or spilled something on a tablecloth. I accidentally trample a few flowers on the occasion I get a day off and decide to enjoy in the garden, and if I'm set to help cook, I have to say that I am almost as bad a chef as Mister Bard is. I think that I'll have to request for Master and Mister Sebastian to leave the cooking to Mister Bard and Sister.

I hope Sister gets along well with everyone. Her accent is heavier than mine and she can read English, but she can still mispronounce things, last I heard. I'm sure she'll do fine. I just hope that she'll be okay with all of the men in the manor. Oh, my candle is starting to go out… I suppose it's letting me know I need to sleep.

– _Amalia Krause._


	3. November 15th, 1889

**A/N:** I'm getting a bit too excited about this story.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything but my OCs!

**November 15****th****, 1889**

I'm so excited! Sister is arriving tomorrow! I've prepared her room and given her some of my clothes, though I'm not sure if they'll fit. I suppose I can always take her shopping for more, and she'll be wearing a uniform most of the time, anyhow. I spent the entire week getting my chores done as quickly as possible so I can help my sister when she arrives and clean up a room for her.

The room is nothing much and rather plain, but it's a roof over her head, so she'll be grateful for it if I have anything to say about it. I hope she hasn't become too spoiled… Judging by the way she wrote the letter she sent me, she's as anxious and happy as I am, so I don't think I have much to worry about. I almost wrote back in my foolish haste. I was so embarrassed when as I asked Mister Sebastian to mail it, only to have him remind me that she would be here the next day. I actually have it right here with me, a bit torn from my nails digging in to it and still damp from my sweaty palms.

I suppose it's good I couldn't send it anyway. It's hardly legible; my hands have been shaking so much recently, either from embarrassment or anticipation. I sigh. I still can't believe I asked Mister Sebastian to do that for me… I know Mey-Rin was nearby; chances are that she heard it and started laughing right away.

Speaking of laughter, we recently had an incident of thievery in the manor. No one stole money or anything of the sort; rather, a chocolate head was stolen. It was the head to a chocolate statue Mister Sebastian made for a group of orphans coming to visit the estate. He first accused us of eating it, but considering we had all—for once—been doing our jobs, the only other suspect could be Mister Tanaka…

We scoured the mansion for Mister Tanaka, but we couldn't find him. Judging by the loud shout, I think Mister Sebastian found the real culprit. Master hadn't even eaten the entire head; in fact, he hadn't even eaten half of it. I can feel my mouth watering; I've had an edacity for sweets lately… But I wouldn't stoop so low as to steal from orphans. That's insulting my master, isn't it? Oh no… Well, he's still a child, isn't he? He doesn't know better just yet, and besides, Sebastian made a new one fairly quickly, so no harm done.

I can't help but smile at the memories that come up from this. It was actually one of the things I wrote in the letter to Sister, but I suppose reminiscing and sharing stories will have to wait until she arrives and work is done. I remember when we were children and we had such an appetite for sweets. I'd have her talk to Mother while I stole a few cookies or pieces of candy from the jar she kept up in a cabinet, and she'd always catch me, never even looking at me. We would of course be scolded, but she'd let us enjoy the candy anyway. I miss Mother…

Maybe Sister can tell me how she's doing. Mother isn't a maid like us; she's a poet and sells her art—whether sewn, drawn, painted or sculpted—for extra money. It seems that Mother has passed down her creativity to both me and Sister, but only passed her writing skills down to my little sister. I am honestly very bad at creative writing, but I have a certain knack for sketching and a little bit of painting. Sister was always envious of me because of this, but at least she can sound eloquent when writing and weave together poems.

My stomach is churning. I'm feeling sick with anticipation, a strangely pleasant feeling, but one I hope to rid myself of soon. I hate waiting for things… Mother always said I had Father's impatience. I think she said this to make me feel better in her own funny way whenever someone would point out how different I am from him. But I don't mind. I'd rather be like Mother any day. I still hate thinking about his eyes, but Sister is the only one who knows this. Come to think of it, didn't she start wearing her bangs long after I told her this?

_– Amalia Krause._


	4. November 16th, 1889

**A/N: **Back yet again. Honestly… It's already 9 P.M. I lost my focus while watching _Friendship is Magic_, so I'm back to writing.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything but my OCs!

**November 16****th****, 1889**

This diary entry is a week early, but I have to write. My sister has arrived at the manor, but the meeting was less than favorable. She tensed when I embraced her and looked rather green when I got a good look at her face. She has grown so much… Her hair is even shorter now, though her bangs hang in front of her face like she's attempting to mimic a mop. I fear my comment on her eyes may still be affecting her… She also looks so much paler, and she's gained a couple pounds. She still only reaches my shoulder… I wonder if she's eating right.

I'll have to ask tomorrow. Today, she became ill while meeting the earl. She looked rather shaky around Mister Sebastian, too… Poor Sister. Men must still scare her… She managed to run out of Master's study when she couldn't hold herself back anymore, and passed out when Mister Sebastian touched her shoulder. Poor little thing.

I hope she's all right. I've been contemplating visiting her to see if she's okay, but I don't think it would be a good idea. I would probably wake someone up, and I know she has trouble falling asleep. My presence would only make things worse, I'm sure. I remember sharing a room with her when we were children; I could always hear her legs kicking around in the bed. If we had to share a bed because one of us was scared, she would end up kicking me and keeping me up, too. She doesn't mean to. It just happens. This is why she always has bruises on her legs, though…

I hope she feels better tomorrow. I think it was just the big change that made her so scared. At least, this is what I'm hoping and praying for. She needs to start working right away to prove herself to Master and Mister Sebastian, that way she won't be at such a big risk of getting fired and kicked out. She better be a hard worker. I haven't seen her in so long, though, so I'll go a little easy on her. Besides, if she isn't feeling well and she pushes herself to hard, she really will get sick, and that wouldn't be good if she's just starting her job.

Maybe Sister being here will help me stop thinking about Miss Mey-Rin. I wish I could. It's just so hard. I hope that she'll notice and smack me for it, and divert my attention whenever my eyes begin to wander to the redhead. She's observant; that's one of the reasons she's always so quiet. That's at least what Mother always said. Mother also always said to watch out for the quiet ones, because they were watching and listening, instead of yammering on all the time, like her and I. But there's nothing wrong with talking in my eyes, so long as you don't do it too much. I wish Bathildis could speak up more often. I never know what's on her mind; she's so hard to read… I have to admit that it's a little unnerving to never know what's on your own sister's mind.

I can hear footsteps. Sebastian must be up. It is rather late; I've been so worried about Sister that I guess I stayed up past my usual bedtime. I hear a shift and a creak, like someone's opening a door. The only room by mine is Sister's. Is she okay? She had nightmares even after I left home. Maybe she's trying to find me for comfort…

I peeked in to the corridor; Sister is fine, other than looking deathly pale. She was probably just looking to see what the sounds were. Footsteps at night are rather worrisome back at home; robbers are a common problem. Maybe that's why she's so restless at night. Not only did she have to concern herself with petty thieves, but there was also Father. But when I looked out too, I saw Sebastian's figure, and I swear I saw two pink eyes look back at me… Maybe it was a candle and my vision was blurring. It's harder to see in the dark; I must be straining my eyes. But then again… Sebastian's eyes are scarlet. Who's to say they can't glow or turn a pinkish color?

What a foolish thought. That's inhuman. It was just my mind playing tricks on me. I can hear the mattress groan from the thin wall beside me, and I know that Sister is in bed. Good, that means I can stop fretting over a girl that can take care of herself (for the most part) and get to sleep.

_– Amalia Krause._


	5. November 22nd, 1889

**A/N:** Hello there! I actually forgot about this story today… heh… Um, sorry. I barely remember to eat most days. But I checked my email out of boredom and found that I had a follower! So I'll do my best to stick to this. I can't promise scheduled updates, though. I'm flaky. Oh, yeah, anyone that likes this story… there's a partner story to it. It's called _The Day I No Longer Say Master_.

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, still don't own _Black Butler_ or _Kuroshitsuji_ or whatever you'd like to call it.

**November 22****nd****, 1889**

What a terrible week… What a fool I am… As I lay here in bed, a bed that I cannot even call my own, I write these unspeakable things and feel my stomach churn as my intestines twist themselves into intricate knots. I can hear the red-haired maid next to me snoring lightly in her sleep, occasionally twitching or tossing around. I shouldn't have come here. Why am I in this room? I should be elated to be in bed with her; I should be thrilled that I just spent at least an hour ranting and raving about my past.

But rather than the feeling of joy, I instead feel… shame. Panic. I'm beginning to sweat and shake, and I'm surely going to retch… Preferably on to this diary, so no one can ever read these terrible things. I can't believe that I just made such a fool of myself. What if Mister Sebastian gets suspicious? What if Sister suspects something? She has to deal with her own troubles, and now there's a possibility she will have to deal with her sinful sister. Master will definitely fire me if word that I am… _infatuated_ with Miss Mey-Rin circulates to him. And I fear it wouldn't take long…

Despite this amount of regret, there is some part of my heart that feels some strange, twisted form of happiness. Miss Mey-Rin is a surprisingly good listener; I poured my heart out to her, and she only nodded until I was finally finished. She even gave me a handkerchief when I began to tear up. I hadn't meant to… It's actually been a while since tears have stung my eyes from sadness. I normally only feel sobbing threatening to choke me when I slam my foot against the bed in the morning, or when one of the servants drops something heavy on my feet. Always my feet…

I hadn't been to speak to Miss Mey-Rin, but she saw me so upset due to my sister's own fears and a stroke of bad luck. It seems that fate has been cruel to us lately; not only is Bathildis still very shaky around the male servants, but she has been unable to prove herself. She was always clumsy as a child, but she's almost as bad as Mey-Rin. Except instead of breaking Master's possessions, she winds up hurting herself. Her fingers are bruised from getting slammed in doors and she's ruined an apron from helping Bard cook. She is actually a capable cook, but seems to be completely incapable in the art of gracility.

Besides that… Mother has fallen ill. I haven't told Sister yet, but I'm afraid she may already know something about it. She saw me tuck the letter in to my apron, after all… I don't know how she would react. I would honestly rather have her go back to check on Mother—to give her a break and maybe strengthen the bond—but she hasn't seen me in years and she can't suddenly run off after only a week of working.

I won't tell her; not until Mother is well again. I know that she would fall silent and mutter something about an outbreak she read about in a newspaper (for whatever reason, my sister has always had a morbid fascination with crimes and epidemics, but perhaps she's concerned), even if I would insist that Mother is old and it's getting harder for her to take care of herself. She gets lonely easily, we both know that. I still remember the months after Father left. I was excited to be able to leave home for the first time, but my plans were delayed when Mother became despondent. She laid in bed and stared blankly at the walls whenever she wasn't asleep. Bathildis had to help me cook meals for us all, and our mother barely ate. She became so thin… She refused to respond to much of anything; in fact, she didn't even care that Sister was still addressing her by name.

It was also around this time that Sister began to mutter and mumble to herself. She would roam around the house and glance around warily behind her bangs, saying nasty things under her breath. I remember her insulting our mother, calling her weak for being unable to handle it, even if she knew that we were all—including her—rather thrown off by Father's absence. I don't know if this was her way of coping, or if she simply blamed Mother. I always hate to think it, but I can't help but wonder in the back of my mind if Bathildis secretly hates our mother. If she secretly hates me… She was always so close to Father, and I remember him whispering in her ear, before they would look over at us and smirk as she sat cozily on his lap, chewing away at some candy from Funtom.

No, no. I already doubt my own Master and Mister Sebastian. I can't be this way to my own little sister. We need each other, after all… But that doesn't change the fact that she is rather… odd. I wonder what she would be like if Father hadn't bent and molded her to his will. I wonder what she would be like if she had fought against it and stuck with me, instead of betraying us by going to his side.

A pang hits my heart. No, she didn't betray us. But she _could_ have done something… As I think about this, a terrible, wicked possibility hits me; maybe my sister is not as loyal as I would like to believe.

I refuse to entertain these thoughts any longer. I would rather think about what happened between Miss Mey-Rin and me than my scornful little sister. I suddenly feel a deep, fiery wound from anger in my gut, and I don't like it. I have to change the subject…

Nothing much happened between me and Miss Mey-Rin, other than my endless yammering. I spoke about Father and how he favored Bathildis, something I didn't mind very much. I told her about the summers I would spend sitting by the window with Mother as she read her wonderful poetry to me, while my sister "secretly" listened in from the corner, silently combing through a dolls hair with her tiny fingers. I miss those sticky summer nights. I miss the mayflies that flew inside constantly and stuck to the walls of our home, and I miss lying on the cool floor while attempting to avoid the daily chores as we all sweltered like pigs in the sun.

I miss home.

But I can't go back. Well, of course I'm going back to see my mother, but I can never truly go back. I can never again be a child that gets away with mere yelling when I tease the other children out to play, and I can never again live in that old little house, sitting in front of my mother's legs on the floor as she instantly made up stories; stories that felt like they were just for me.

Perhaps I can get Bathildis to write for me… If she has Mother's talent, I may be able to have something that helps me reminisce like this when feeling worried.

I wonder if I can sneak out of this bed without waking Miss Mey-Rin… I'm sure the sun will rise soon. If I move just right, I can see outside the window. It's hard to tell—and it may be my mind playing tricks on me in the dark again—but I believe I can see a bit of the sky that is a lighter blue than the rest. I hope the sun rises soon; that way, I can make my escape and pretend that this entire ordeal never happened.

Even if my mind is focused on writing, I can still feel a gentle warmth radiating from her skin underneath the covers, and I'm reminded of the heat that her smile brings me. She smiled at me so much when I spoke to her. I hope I didn't bother her too much… Why am I so concerned if she likes me? Maybe if she hated me it would be easier to end these frustrating feelings. No one can know about them…

I can only hope that Miss Mey-Rin won't bring it up again anytime soon…

_ – Amalia Krause._


End file.
